Aladdin OBrien | Page 9

send word to your cousins up the river that you are with me," he
said, and thus was the invitation extended and accepted.
"O'Brien," said the great man to Aladdin, "when you feel able, come to
my house; I have something to say to you."
Then Senator St. John, and Margaret, and Margaret's godlike young
friend, and the spaniel got into the carriage that was waiting for them,
and drove off. But Margaret turned and waved to Aladdin.
"Good-by, Aladdin!" she called.

VI
They helped Aladdin back to the smithy, for his only covering was a
clumsy blanket; and there he put on his shrunken clothes, which
meanwhile had dried. The kindly men pressed food on him, but he
could not eat. He could only sit blankly by the fire and nurse the numb,
overpowering pain in his heart. Another had succeeded where he had
failed. Even at parting, just now, Margaret's eyes had not been for him,
but for the stranger who had done so easily what he had not been able
to do at all. The voyage down the river had been mere foolishness
without result. He had not rescued his fair lady, but deserted her upon a
desert island. For him no bouquets were flung, nor was there to be any
clapping of hands. After a time he rose like one dreaming, and went
slowly, for he was sick and weak, up to the great pillared house of

Hannibal St. John. The senator in that stern voice of his had bade him
come; nothing could be any worse than it was. He would go. He
knocked, and they showed him into the library. It was four walls of
leather books, an oak table neater than a pin, a huge chair covered with
horsehair much worn, and a blazing fire of birch logs. Before the fire,
one hand thrust into his coat, the other resting somewhat heavily upon
the head of a whalebone cane, stood the senator. Far off Aladdin heard
Margaret's laugh and with it another young laugh. Then he looked up
like a little hunted thing into the senator's smoldering eyes.
"Sit down in that chair," said the senator, pointing with his cane to the
only chair in the room. His voice had the effect of a strong muscular
compulsion to which men at once yielded. Aladdin sat into the big
chair, his toes swinging just clear of the ground. Then there was silence.
Aladdin broke it.
"Is Margaret all right?" he gulped.
The senator disregarded the question. Having chosen his words, he said
them.
"I do not know," he began, "what my daughter was doing in a boat with
you. I do not object to her enjoying the society at proper times of
suitable companions of her own age, but the society of those who lead
her into temptation is not suitable." Aladdin fairly wilted under the
glowering voice. "You will not be allowed to associate with her any
more," said the senator. "I will speak to your father and see that he
forbids it."
Aladdin climbed out of the chair, and stumbled blindly into the table.
He had meant to find the door and go.
"Wait; I have not done," said the senator.
Aladdin turned and faced the enemy who was taking away the joy of
life from him.
"In trying to atone for your fault," said the senator, "by imperiling your

life, you did at once a foolhardy and a fine thing--one which I will do
my best to repay at any time that you may see fit to call upon me. For
the present you may find this of use." He held forward between his
thumb and forefinger a twenty-dollar gold piece. Aladdin groped for
words, and remembered a phrase which he had heard his own father
return to a tormentor. He thrust his red hands into his tight pockets, and
with trembling lips looked up.
"It's a matter of pride," he said, and walked out of the room. When he
had gone the senator took from his pocket a leather purse, opened it,
put back the gold piece, and carefully tied the string. Then far from any
known key or tune the great man whistled a few notes. Could his
constituents have heard, they would have known--and often had the
subject been debated--that Hannibal St. John was human.
Aladdin stood for a while upon the lofty pillared portico of the senator's
house, and with a mist in his eyes looked away and away to where the
cause of all his troubles flowed like a ribbon of silver through the
bright-colored land. Grown men, having, in their whole lives, suffered
less than Aladdin was at that moment suffering, have considered
themselves heartbroken. The little boy shivered and toiled down the
steps, between the